


Totem (this is not a dream)

by wanderingflame



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingflame/pseuds/wanderingflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The shout jolts Steve out of sleep. Instinct tells him to get the shield, get Bucky, get to cover, but as he sits up, cold metal smashes him in the face. Stars explode across his vision and he thinks his nose might be broken. Beside him, Bucky is thrashing to get free of the sheets.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totem (this is not a dream)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> Written for Kaci's drawing of [Steve comforting Bucky after a nightmare](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/81834335160). 
> 
> I really love her art and it makes me want to either gush without end or write fic, so here's a little of the latter. The totem in the title is a reference to the totems in Inception, but this isn't meant to be a crossover. I just like the idea that Steve is Bucky's totem, grounding him in reality. :3

The shout jolts Steve out of sleep. Instinct tells him to get the shield, get Bucky, get to cover, but as he sits up, cold metal smashes him in the face. Stars explode across his vision and he thinks his nose might be broken. Beside him, Bucky is thrashing to get free of the sheets. He succeeds and hits the floor with a thump, but it's the whimper that follows that has Steve fumbling for the lamp beside the bed.

“Bucky.”

Steve's not sure if it's the light or his voice that breaks through the panic but Bucky freezes. He's halfway across the room, pale and panting, pupils constricted in the sudden light. His gaze darts around and when it comes back to Steve, his expression crumples.

“Hey, no, it's fine,” Steve says gently. “I've had worse.” He can taste blood in his throat and on his lips, but gentle prodding makes him think the cartilage isn’t broken like he'd first thought. He tries to smile but Bucky flinches and looks down. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a very reassuring sight. Steve scrubs a hand under his nose and wipes the blood off on his pants. “Come back to bed?”

Bucky doesn't move at first, hugging his knees to his chest with his head down. Steve half-expects him to leave and spend the rest of the night huddled on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time. When Bucky stands, Steve's throat tightens, torn between asking him to stay and giving him space. He’s almost dizzy with relief when Bucky shuffles back to the bed and sits down. He won't look at Steve, though, just leans forward to bury his face in his hands. Steve lays a tentative hand on Bucky's back, grateful that it doesn’t earn him another flinch. 

They sit in silence for a while. Steve runs his hand across scarred skin in slow, soothing circles, remembering a time when their positions were reversed, and Bucky had tried to calm Steve during an asthma attack. Bucky trembles under the touch, probably seeing the scenes from his nightmare behind closed eyes. 

“I thought I was still there,” he says after a while. His voice is rough with sleep and thick with emotion. He takes a shaky breath and sits up. “I thought I was still on Zola's table, in the Alps. That this”—he gestures to the room with his left hand, mouth twisting when light glints off the metal—“was a dream.” He drops his gaze to the floor again, shoulders slumping.

Steve has to swallow past the lump in his throat. “That'd be some dream, huh?”

Bucky shrugs. “Wasn't all bad. Got to see you again.”

“Aw, Buck.” Steve slides his hand down to Bucky's waist, tugging him closer. He covers Bucky's left hand with his own, entwining their fingers, and waits for Bucky to look up. When he does, his blue eyes are wide and a little desperate.

“This is real,” Steve says, squeezing his hand. Metal fingers tighten in response. “You're not dreaming on Zola's table. You're here with me now, just like you said you would be. ‘End of the line’, right?” He smiles and this time Bucky doesn't flinch or look away. He stares at Steve like he's drinking in every detail, looking for some flaw that would reveal the words as a lie. 

Steve doesn’t know what he sees that finally makes it click, but eventually Bucky gives him a tired smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“‘Course I am,” Steve murmurs and grins when it earns him a half-hearted elbow in the ribs. He scoots back on the mattress. “Come here.” Bucky's gaze drops to the blood stains, but Steve tugs gently at their still-clasped hands. He doesn't care about his clothes, not when it would mean letting go of Bucky right now.

They curl up on their sides, Steve spooned against Bucky's back with an arm around him. They left the light on but Steve thinks it may help ground Bucky in the here and now. He’s also too comfortable to want to move. As the lingering anxiety from the nightmare drains away, Bucky relaxes with a sigh. 

This won’t be the last night interrupted by bad dreams, but time has shown they're growing less frequent as Bucky recovers. Steve is just starting to doze off when the other man moves. He mumbles a protest, too drowsy to be intelligible, and feels Bucky chuckle. Instead of moving away, like Steve had thought, Bucky brings their hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to their linked fingers. Steve’s nose still aches but he drifts to sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
